


Breakfast of Champions

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Clint Barton is not a morning person, F/M, Grumpy Clint, Mild Language, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 19:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20953868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: Clint is not a morning person, which only makes you want to see how far you can push him before he breaks.





	Breakfast of Champions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nerdy_bookworm_1998](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdy_bookworm_1998/gifts).

> Written for @nerdy-bookworm-1998 Writing Challenge on Tumblr.

Clint glowered at you over the rim of his purple mug as he drank his coffee. You were making breakfast; pancakes, bacon, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and you were singing. God, he loved you, but he wanted to punch you right then. Granted, the sight of your thighs barely covered by his shirt had him thanking his lucky stars that you put up with his grumpy ass. Still, you were too damn chipper and it grated on him. 

He grunted when you presented a plate overloaded with pancakes, sugary syrup cascading down and five strips of bacon resting atop the stack. Just the way he liked it. 

“Not hungry?” you questioned when he didn’t immediately dig in. You unceremoniously shoveled pancakes into your mouth, your cheeks bulging, syrup dripping from your bottom lip. You had done it on purpose, trying to get  _ any _ reaction from Clint. 

Shrugging, he picked up a strip of bacon and took a bite. “You happy now?”

“Jeez,” you sighed. “ **Has anyone ever told you that you’re cranky when you’re tired?** ”

“Not my fault,” he gruffed. 

“Sure as hell ain’t mine,” you chuckled, poking him in the bicep with your finger. “I didn’t keep you up all night.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Most’a the night.”

“Semantics,” you sighed, poking him again, closer to his elbow.

“Stop it.” 

The muscle under your finger twitched. “What’cha gonna do ‘bout it?” you teased, poking him in the ribs. 

Clint cut a glare at you and grunted your name. “I mean it.” 

You were trying so hard to keep from laughing that you bit the inside of your cheek and poked him again, further down, closer to his waist. “I’m so scared.”

“You should be,” was his rumbling threat. 

Fingers danced down his side. “But I’m not.” 

Clint growled and lunged, wrapping his arms around your waist and launching you over his shoulder. “You  _ will _ be,” he vowed darkly, a hand coming down, smacking your ass. 

You let loose a very uncharacteristic squeal. “Clinton Francis Barton,” you snapped. “Put me down!”

“I will, sweetheart,” Clint chuckled, securing you tighter to his shoulder. “As soon as we’re in my bedroom.” 

A different kind of thrill slithered down your spine. You reached down, slapped Clint’s ass, and gave it a harsh squeeze. “The bedroom, huh? What’cha got planned for me, Barton?” 

He pinched the back of your thigh, directly under the swell of your ass. “And ruin the surprise? I don’t think so.” 

“Call me crazy, but I kinda like it when you’re grumpy.” 

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” 


End file.
